Sara rolled her eyes. “I don’t kiss little boys.” Shit. She hadn’t meant to say something so mean—especially not with that note of challenge in her tone.
Brad’s grin widened. “Little’s not a word that’s ever been used to describe me.”
She didn’t blush or fidget at his reply. Years of schmoozing at fundraisers and events with the public had taught her well. She had a pretty good game face and knew he wouldn’t be able to decipher her reaction. But her pulse quickened, and the sudden dryness in her throat contrasted sharply with the surge of moisture between her thighs.
“I wasn’t referring to height.”
His grin deepened. So charming. So utterly cocky. “Me either.”
Deciding she’d had enough of his attempts to flirt or whatever the hell he was doing, she lifted her brows. “I’m forty-two. I’ve seen a lot. A lot,” she emphasized, though it was only recently she’d seen much of anything. And most of what she’d seen she’d already forgotten.
That was partially because she’d given up having men ove
r when she’d moved in with Kim. It seemed awkward, and she didn’t relish meeting Brad over coffee the next morning while her sheets still smelled like another guy’s aftershave. It felt…weird. So she’d accepted her love life would consist of sleepovers at the guy’s place until she grew out of her need to live with her friends as if she were twenty all over again. She wasn’t seeing any man in particular right now anyway. None of them interested her enough.
Did that make her fickle or impossible to please? She wasn’t sure. But she hadn’t given up looking for that guy who would make her pulse race faster.
Kind of like Brad’s doing now?
“And yet you’re single. So I’m thinking what you’ve seen hasn’t been worthy of making you stick around. Am I right?”
“I almost got married before I moved here,” she said, surprised again at what came out of her mouth. Somehow she’d developed a disconnect between her brain and her vocal cords.
“Yeah? What happened?”
“According to my ex, I ran away to play with endangered birds.”
He laughed, tipping his head so his longish, dark blond hair tumbled into his eyes. They seemed caught between gray and blue, as if even his irises were incapable of making up their minds. Just like Brad, if rumors could be believed.
“According to my ex, I left because I couldn’t be with just one woman.”
He braced a hand next to her knee on the chair, his knuckles millimeters away from brushing her skin. The backs of his hands were lightly dusted with hair, much like the bare chest he insisted on flaunting whenever she was within view. Unlike the very straight hair on his head, his chest hair was almost curly, the kind that would be perfect for a woman to tug on.
If a woman were inclined to do such things.
“Well, gotta admit, a three-week marriage does seem pretty bad.”
“It was almost six weeks actually,” he said, his voice lacking any inflection. But his easy grin faded.
“You still did better than me,” she said, making her own tone brighter in denial of the flatness of his. Funny, she’d used his quickie marriage and divorce to dismiss him, but the tense expression he wore while discussing his ex almost made her jealous.
Maybe he wasn’t such a player after all.
“I didn’t even make it to the altar,” she added, registering his silence.
“Neither did Darla and me. We went to the JP. Justice of the Peace,” he said at her curious expression.
“Oh. I thought you’d gone to Vegas.” She didn’t really think that, but she wanted him to smile again. He didn’t seem like Brad without the semi-permanent grin.
“You have lots of thoughts about me, apparently. Most of them wrong.”
“Maybe I’m a presumptuous bitch.” Again she scratched her calf with her toes. Except this time she knew exactly where his gaze would go, and the idea didn’t disturb her as much as it had a few minutes ago.
Sunstroke maybe? It was awfully hot out here. Or could they have actually forged some sort of bond over broken relationships?
Some sort of platonic bond. Because, seriously, she wasn’t going there. Not with Kim’s little…err, younger brother.
Normally she didn’t have a problem with making a decision and sticking to it. But lately ping-pong matches had nothing on the wishy-washy flip-flopping she was doing in her own damn mind.